


In here... we're all anemic

by nabicnvs



Category: GOT7
Genre: Drabble, Drinking, M/M, Mentions of drugs, creepy insects comparisons, fairy Jaebeom, obscure parties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29949903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nabicnvs/pseuds/nabicnvs
Summary: It's a dirty house scattered with games and pills. Sharp objects and bottles, more bottles than one could ever count. Rugs for beds, fur, sweat, smeared makeup and asphyxiated expressions planted in each corner.In the core of which there's a fairy.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Mark Tuan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	In here... we're all anemic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiyono](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyono/gifts).



> for zenny who makes the prettiest art <3 to cherish our lil bonding moment with some markbeom :,)
> 
> super obvious, but the inspiration for this was [change (in the house of flies)](https://youtu.be/WPpDyIJdasg). more specifically, if you wish, the lyrics "i pulled off your wings/ and i laughed". 
> 
> won't really recommend this if insects bother you? and the song is pretty sinister, but i personally find it as alluring.
> 
> have fun and please be safe <3

Rolling eyes, sleepy, losing their colour. Limbs, numb, anemic, shivering, fumbling. A house like a hole for flies, a space for nocturnal moths. 

Even the loudness gets so loud that it scratches the ear with uneasy silence. Torpid bodies falling or moving in slow motion on an albeit macabre rhythm of loud guitars and sharply vibrating drums. It's a party where the sun is not invited. 

It's a dirty house scattered with games and pills. Sharp objects and bottles, more bottles than one could ever count. Rugs for beds, fur, sweat, smeared makeup and asphyxiated expressions planted in each corner. 

What still moves more lively is in the core, in the middle of it all: the _animators_ , the band playing for the tired moths that swim around in a pool of drugs and cigarettes. There's quite a handful of them, dressed in dark colours as if they're wearing a uniform for a revolution. 

One's wearing a beanie inside, another has long long hair he keeps throwing in the air in the rhythms of the ominous music they're playing. One has a lot of chains hanging by him and another has bleeding knuckles. The one in the middle, attached to the microphone, has a pierced lip and a somehow deep voice, raspy but pleasant in a weird way. 

The vocalist grins against the microphone as his eyes take into view a particular strange figure of a young man who looks as anaesthetized as the others; he's just a bit stranger, with plastic wings hanging by his back, as if he's the leader of the anemic flies in the room. If you supress the drowsiness his moves are flooding into, he's _pretty_ with his rosy cheeks and face, with his dark eyes like lost oceans; with his unequally chopped long bangs and with the smile on his face that looks almost stupid. And Mark… loves to see him smile like that. 

While still sober, Mark thought the wings looked a bit cheesy on his boyfriend. But after two drinks and almost an hour of singing, he truly thinks they make his boyfriend the most majestic dancing body at the party. He looks as pretty as he looks happily drunk, and Mark wonders for a second how it would be to take him on one of the fluffy white rugs. 

Mark’s eyes follow him until he’s grinning in front of him. It’s the longest song in Mark’s whole life, and by the end of it, he touches those artificial wings of a happy boyfriend a few times. And when Mark finally pushes the mic away, the self-proclaimed fairy is fast to throw a hand over his shoulder. _For support, perhaps, because that’s a drunk fairy between knocked-out moths._

“You sing so well!” Now he’s praising, preparing to break his sweet knees just to have half of himself held by the singer boyfriend he’s so in love with. 

Mark laughs. He can’t help but laugh at the way those wings make his boyfriend look softer and prettier when they fumble like a third set of limbs. 

“I love you so so much.” Comes out as he loses his senses and his equilibrium. At least the man he considers the world spins around is there to wrap a hand tightly around him as closing the distance between their pelvises. 

“God, babe, you’re _so fucking drunk_.” 

This time, the toothy chuckle makes the fairy-boyfriend get red ears from embarrassment. Serves him right and they match the cheeks, too. 

“Jaebeom…” Bony fingers press into the reddish cheeks, making them puff up. It irks Mark just slightly, because those glossy eyes are full with something Mark cannot decipher. And the puffiness of the warm cheeks and the heart-shaped lips are there, too, present in Mark’s face, to distract him from the real thing. “God, we really need to talk tomorrow…” Mark concludes in a whisper and seals the promise with his sharp teeth biting on a chapped pink lip. 

As a confirmation, a Jaebeom with sleepy movements leans in, replies as much as he is able to, while Mark goes for kisses on and on and on, until the fake-fairy’s muscles get numb. 

“I’m in love with you…” Jaebeom's lips barely move in a mumble, as his body feels more and more like it’s melting in Mark’s hands. “I… am so tired…” 

“Mhm…”

“My legs hurt…”

“Mmm!” — _and a raised pierced eyebrow, because, of course; Mark’s hurt too, in fact. He’s dead tired too, he’s just used to it._

“In my chest… uh… there’s something…”

“Do you feel like throwing up?” For a disgusting thing, Mark offers his arms really gently for support and uses that sweet tone of his. It’s really weird that the sun entered the house, and while it’s bothering all the boneless moths seeking to lay down and rest, Mark finds relievance and comfort in the light rays. 

“I… am getting scared.”

Now, Mark’s eyes close for a second in unison with the twitching of his eyebrows. It hits him like a hammer. 

“Like, panicking. Because I… uh… this place… it’s spinning and I’m going to fall on my ass.”

“Then let’s get a ca-” The word “cab” he mumbles around Jaebeom's lips as he is being kissed. It’s an odd kiss, too desperate for his boyfriend, so clingy and _excessively warm_ and Mark just wants to get them both away from the sun, from the madhouse and from those eerie moans and whimpers and clutters coming from the anemic bodies. 

Though Jaebeom does not say it with his mouth, his dark eyes that threaten Mark to start pouring with tears say the loudest and most lucid “let’s get out of here”. 

That early morning, Mark has the most beautifully tired fairy climbing over his naked torso and mumbling nonsense. Normally, he would have said no to drunk sex, but he’s so sleepy that he barely keeps up with the floundering butterfly on top of him. Before he manages to say anything, Jaebeom opens his mouth and lays a sweaty palm on Mark’s knee. And while he’s wondering how he should put it, Jaebeom starts bouncing lazily in his lap, still wearing that adorable blue-greyish shirt and the artificial wings that match the softness his drunk self has. 

The sex? It only becomes fun when Mark touches the sensitive skin, and, therefore, makes the magical creature on top of him shiver with both pleasure and frustration. Then he’s grinning widely, showing his white teeth made for biting into skin, flesh and the thick-essenced of words. 

He doesn't remember much afterwards. The pillow his head falls on steals most of his thoughts. Still, his senses are sharp, so his fingertips caress over Jaebeom to alleviate the sudden fear filling him up. 

“I felt so claustrophobic while there.” Jaebeom whispers at some point, the drunkness — _and Mark suspects, some small dose of powder he might have swallowed accidentally once with whatever drink_ — still poignant in the way he barely rolls his tongue to speak. “Faces were so strange… everybody looked…”

“Shhh…” Mark concludes, because he knows. Some of his gigs are like that, and though he got used to them, he feels like he won’t let his boyfriend be the dancing fairy in the middle of the disoriented moths again. 

Once was enough. And anemic fairy Jaebeom is splendid, but Mark would be lost without the control the calm and collected Jaebeom offers him. 

So he hooks a finger in the strap of the plastic wings, and decides to admire them one more time before helping Jaebeom shed his sparkly aura and fake leathers.

**Author's Note:**

> no i will never stop referencing deftones in my fics and no i will never stop spreading the fairy beom agenda!!
> 
> thank you so much for reading, it means a lot to me!! hope you liked it, zen :D


End file.
